The Tool Party
by Laughing Librarian
Summary: One never knows when or where a special tool might be needed.
1. Chapter 1

Roy let out a low whistle. "Wow. This is the place, eh?"

"Yep, this is the address Kelly gave us. Said his uncle won't be back 'til next Thursday and if Chet watched the place for him, he could have friends over. Guess since Chet doesn't have any friends, he invited us instead," John chuckled.

Roy rolled his eyes and said nothing. He pulled the Porsche alongside the concrete retaining wall and cocked his head, taking in the sight of the manicured flower gardens and the elegant topiaries lining the stone walk.

"Should we wait for the other guys or go on up?"

"Heck, I'm gonna make the most of this place," John spouted, "I'm goin' in now! Besides, there's Mike's truck, so he's already here. I'm sure Cap and Marco'll be along pretty soon."

"Yeah, guess so," Roy agreed, hefting the beer-filled cooler from the back seat.

"Yeowch!" John snarled, then leaned against the car door and observed his freshly-stubbed toe. "Stupid sandals...stupid concrete."

Roy thought his eyes might freeze in a rolled position if he did it any more often, and so restrained himself. "C'mon, Chet's waiting."

"Hey! Roy!" Gage howled, but Roy kept walking, chuckling and shaking his head.

Johnny quickly decided his toe was fine and grabbed the beach towels and his sunglasses from the car. It didn't take long to catch up with Roy who strolled slowly, admiring the expanse of deep-green lawn. It was July in southern California, and _his_ lawn certainly didn't look this nice.

"Hm, sprinkler system, probably," he muttered, keeping his head down, "gardener too, I'll bet." Rich people made him nervous.

"Wouldya' look at that!" Gage sputtered, "That front door is 'bout as big as 51's bay door!" He ran a finger across the leaded designs in the crystal stained glass of the door's side windows. "Shew! Bet that door cost more than the squad!"

Roy punched a finger on the doorbell button; a loud, elegant version of "Westminster Chime" bonged out their presence.

Within seconds, the door was opened by a man, dressed formally in a tuxedo and cravat. A man, Gage was sure to note, who was larger and taller than any guy he'd seen since the time the whole crew had to rescue that giant dude who was high on paint fumes. Subtly looking the man over with a critical eye, he thought,_ "Maybe not as broad across the shoulder, but still, not your typical butler-type, either,"_ he observed. The man was kind of young, and pretty good looking, if he had to say.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen, Mister Kelly is in the back by the pool. Follow me, please," the man said while motioning with his left arm toward the doors at the back of the living area.

_"He is a real butler? Good grief, Kelly's gonna milk this for all its worth!"_ Johnny thought, while nodding at the man. _"I thought butlers were all old guys."_

_"A real butler? Good grief, Johnny's gonna raz Chet to no end for this!"_ thought Roy. _"Huh, I thought butlers were all old guys."_

The marble foyer opened to a magnificent living area, the likes of which John and Roy had never seen before. Enormous works of art with gilded frames were hung on each wall and deep brown leather furniture sat across from a white brick bar, undoubtedly well-stocked. Marble columns and floors that made their voices echo reminded Roy of the church he and Joanne were married in. The speaker system had failed that day and he remembered them having to shout their vows so the congregation could hear, but all that was heard was "Braaa, Ro, taaaa iii..." as the sound vibrations bounced off the walls. They had barely made it through the rest of the ceremony without laughing and now Roy was sorely tempted to yell "I dooo!" in this cavernous house just for old times sake.

The butler walked a few steps ahead of them and with his left arm, opened the floor-to-ceiling glass French doors leading to the stone patio and pool area. Mike waved to them from the diving board just as he made a rather poorly-executed swan dive into the deep end. The pool area was bordered with mature lemon and avocado trees planted behind a stone retaining wall, their long branches offering up some shade on one side of the immense courtyard.

There were chaise lounges and bamboo chairs lined along the waist-high wall and music played from an unseen stereo. As John expected, Chet was eating this up. Wrapped in a terrycloth towel and carrying a half-drunk bottle of beer, he sauntered up to them with an obnoxious grin plastered on his face.

"Guys! C'mon in! Have a seat!" he called, waving them over to a pair of lounges. "Hey, Halligan, take the cooler and get these guys a cold one, would ya'?

Roy and John exchanged looks, "Halligan?"


	2. Chapter 2

**The Tool Party – Chapter Two**

Halligan hoisted the cooler to his broad shoulders and without a word, strode away toward the house and both John and Roy watched him leave. Chet burped.

"So, that guy's name really is Halligan? As in the tool, Halligan?" Roy asked.

"Yeah, his name's really Halligan. Halligan Bumgood. Isn't that a hoot? Uncle Conan told me he hired this guy a coupla' months ago along with a couple of others to run the house since he's gone so much."

"So, uh, why are _you_ watching the house then?"

"He invited me!" When Roy's brows knitted, Chet continued, "Hey, can I help it if my uncle appreciates what I do for the city?"

"Well, a guy like that's good to have around, I'll bet. A guy could get used to this pretty fast," Roy added.

"Hm, yeah, I bet you're not enjoying this at all, are ya'?" Johnny snorted.

"Johnny, m'boy, _this_ is livin', let me tell you," Kelly responded, "Watch this..."

Halligan returned with a tray bearing two cold bottles of beer and two iced beer mugs. He set the tray down on the bar and expertly poured out the brew, leaving just enough foam at the top. Perfect. He handed them to Roy and John. "Your drinks, sirs," he announced. Turning to Chet he asked, "Anything else, Mister Kelly?"

"Yeah. Say, Halligan, how about havin' the chef make up some of those snacks he made last night. Maybe some of those shrimp things with that fruity-tomato-y stuff."

"Shrimp things, sir?" Halligan inquired with a cocked eyebrow.

"Yeah, you know, those little shrimp things on the chips, with the tomato stuff?"

"The shrimp and mango salsa on tortillas, Mister Kelly?"

"Yeah, sure, that sounds right. Have Hillbag, er, Hobbins...eh, I can't remember his name...the chef guy. Have him make some of those up for us, will you? A whole bunch; these guys'll love 'em!"

"It's Higbee, sir; I'll tell him."

"_A chef, too?"_ Johnny wondered indignantly, _"this is too much!"_

Roy noticed John's face twist into a displeased smirk and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder as if to say,_ "Relax, man, it's just Chet"._

Halligan returned to the house, presumably to tell Higbee to make the hors d'oeuvres. Roy smiled from behind his mug of beer, knowing how hard it was for Johnny to keep from spouting off about Chet being so spoiled. Chet, meanwhile, slugged back the rest of his beer and jerked a thumb towards the lounge chairs.

Stoker, was back on the diving board, waving his arms back and forth, preparing to try a decent dive yet again.

"Mikey!" Chet hollered, "C'mon out! Halligan's gonna bring out some snacks!"

With a mutual shrug, Roy and John followed Chet across the stone paved patio to the bamboo chaise lounges and sat back to relax in the shade. Chet weaved just slightly and he looked back at Roy and Johnny and giggled. Clearly, he had started the party a little earlier than they had.

Mike swam underwater to the edge of the pool and emerged from it with an enormous splash. He stood there and whipped his head to the side to clear the water drops from his face, then hefted himself to the flat stone patio. His wet foot prints darkened the stones as water drops raced down his legs and splattered along behind him as he joined the others by the lounges.

"Stoker! You got chicken legs, man!" Chet laughed. "You need a tan! Here..." He handed Stoker a towel and a bottle of tanning lotion.

Mike looked it over. "Chet, this is pretty powerful stuff; you use this?"

"Sure man, I've been using it all day. I'll be a bronze god by tonight- it says so on the bottle!"

With that, the huge glass doors opened, and Halligan pointed Cap and Marco to where the others sat.

"Whoa, talk about chicken legs! Check out Cap's!" Chet nearly rolled off the lounge with laughter.

"Marco, I think they're making fun of my physique," Cap muttered to Lopez.

"Nah, they wouldn't do that, Cap," Marco protested, "you're still in great shape...for your age."

"For my age?"

"No, no, Cap, I said, for your stage, er, I mean, for..for..."

"Stop while you're behind, pal," Cap told him with a hearty slap to Marco's back.

Cap and Marco scooched chairs over to the lounges and sat down, admiring the posh courtyard. Cap was about to comment on the perfectly groomed boxwood hedges and the statue of the Greek god Poseidon spouting water from his concrete trident just as Halligan returned.

"It may be a bit yet, Mister Kelly. Higbee cut his finger deveining the shrimp and I needed to bandage it for him."

Immediately, Roy and John looked up. "He okay?" Johnny asked, "we're paramedics; we can look it over it you want."

"I'm sure it will be fine, gentlemen, thank you. Higbee protested treatment of course, but I forced him to sit down while I picked through the medicine cabinet for a bandage. Just another entry in my journal, I suppose."

"Uh, yeah, okay, if you're sure," Johnny said, looking quizzically at the butler. Had Halligan just made a few tool puns? It would seem so.

Suddenly, the pool pump made a loud squealing noise and thumped to a stop as bubbles came gurgling forth from the filter.

"Crap! What was that?" Chet cried.

"Sounds like your pool pump, man," Mike told him.

"Well yeah, I figured that out, Mikey, but why is it doing that?"

All six of the firemen along with Halligan wandered over to the pump's housing and Chet lifted the cover.

"Hey, look at all those little swirls of water," he pointed out.

"That's called cavitation, Mister Kelly. I can fix it," Halligan told him.

Halligan removed his jacket and tie, loosened the cravat around his neck and rolled up his sleeves. Bending over the pump housing, he pulled the hose out and loosened one thing and tightened another, fiddling around with things until he succeeded in getting the pump running again. He replaced the lid and the others stood around in admiration as the bubbles stopped and the pumped hummed to life once more.

"Hey, Halligan, that was great! You're pretty handy!" Chet exclaimed, "I don't know anything about pool pumps."

"Pretty impressive, Halligan," Johnny added, "nice work."

Mike sniffed and mumbled, "I could have fixed that. It's just a pump..."

Halligan smiled, stood up and picked his jacket off the ground, rolled his sleeves back down and began to straighten his tie. "Glad to be able to help, Mister Kelly."

"So, uh, anyway, Halligan, why so formal? Uncle Conan's away for a while, how about you join us for a beer?

"Me, sir?"

"Yeah, sure. Nobody else is comin' over; take the day off and hang out with us by the pool."

"Well. I don't suppose any of my employers ever asked that of me before, Mister Kelly. If you're sure..."

"The only thing I'm more sure of is that you gotta stop callin' me Mister Kelly. It's Chet, man; just Chet. Besides, I'm not your employer this week, I'm just Mister Kelly's nephew. C'mon and join us."

Calling Chet, "Chet" didn't sound right to Halligan's ears. "If you're certain Mist...I mean, Chet, then I'll be back in a few minutes. Thank you."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Halligan returned to the kitchen to inform Higbee of his newly granted day off. This might prove to be a very interesting day indeed.

"So, Higbee, it seems Mr. Kelly's nephew has given me the day off. Apparently, fixing the pool pump was all that was required. I'll bet he'd give the whole staff the day off if we asked for it," he added with a slight grin.

"Well...what are you going to do, then?" Higbee snorted, still cradling his injured finger in his other hand.

"Believe it or not, I'm going to join the gents for a beer!"

"Hmph. Well, on your way out, take these hors d'oeuvres with you. Might as well eat the ones I finished before I did this..." he said, holding up his right index finger.

"I'll do just that, Higbee my friend. I'll even put a good word in for you!" Halligan chuckled. "You know, I think I'll change into something other than this monkey-suit, first, I do believe! I'll be back for those in a minute." With that, Halligan left the kitchen, leaving an amused James Higbee behind.

**~E!~**

The young butler went to his quarters, a handsomely furnished apartment on the second floor. Though the entire mansion was air-conditioned, a definite luxury that not many enjoyed, Halligan still preferred the fresh air that wafted in. He walked over to the large balcony window and opened it, immediately the white sheers fluttered with the incoming breeze and Halligan smiled. "What a great day to have off!"

He stood in the center of the room and unfastened the buttons on his starched white shirt, relishing the breeze that cooled his chest. He tossed the shirt onto the large upholstered lounge chair and clasping his hands together, stretched his arms above his head, releasing the tension from his muscles. Bracing himself with one hand on the back of the lounge, he removed his shoes and socks, kicked them to the side, and wiggled his toes in the thick shag carpet. It appeared that with the removal of Halligan's formal attire, his formal behavior went with it.

With a deeply relaxed sigh, Halligan then unfastened the buttons of his pants and slid from them, letting them fall to the floor. Wearing nothing more than his boxers, he walked to his bedroom in search of swimming trunks, something he hadn't worn since taking the position here at the Kelly estate.

In the evenings, he could see the pool from his balcony and it was quite stunning when the lights glowed underwater in shades of pink and green. As it was, it was still mid-afternoon and Halligan was looking forward to relaxing. Those friends of Chet seemed an amiable bunch. He'd never met any firemen before, and admittedly, other than the bushy mustache, Chet didn't really fit Halligan's stereotype. He always assumed firemen were all beefed-up, tall, muscular athletic types, but none of this group were much over six-feet tall, and the one guy was pretty skinny for a fireman, Halligan thought as he rifled through the dresser drawers.

Finally, he procured a pair of dark blue swim trunks and tossed them toward the bed as he dropped trou. The trunks slid from the bed to the floor and Halligan bent over to retrieve them. As he did so, he noticed his chain- the one with the cross- lay on the floor, just barely beneath the bed. "Aha! Here it is!" he muttered, "I've been looking for you." He snatched the necklace from its hiding spot and placed it around his neck, tugging on it a little to be sure it was clasped tightly. He sat down on the bed and stuck his feet in the swim trunks and pulled them over his muscular thighs, giving the waistband a small snap. The past few months using the stairs in this enormous house had certainly paid off for his physique. However, his swim trunks seemed a bit too tight now. Not uncomfortably so, he observed, but still, he made a mental note to buy a new pair the next time he had a chance.

Donning a black t-shirt and slipping his feet into a pair of house-shoes, he grabbed one of the thick, white towels from the bathroom and draped it around his neck. He felt more like a guest at his own place of employment rather than a servant. It was a nice change.

Halligan returned to the kitchen and Higbee was nowhere to be seen. There was a note on the butcher-block counter. "Hal, the snacks are keeping warm in the oven. Had to go to the store. -H"

With a shrug, he removed the baking dish and made his way toward the patio. Six pairs of eyes looked up as Halligan returned with the tray.

"Gentlemen, here's a few things our chef made earlier. Shrimp and mango salsa on tortilla chips."

Roy wrinkled his nose with curiosity, and Johnny lifted one up to his eye to examine it more closely.

"Shrimp, huh? What's mango salsa?" Chet wondered out loud.

"Tortilla chips! Awright!" Marco rejoiced.

"I don't like fish, Chet, thanks anyway," Cap frowned.

"Mmph, mmph, 'dese 'r good," Mike said with a mouthful of the crispy treats.

"Cap! Shrimp aren't fish!" insisted Chet, "tell 'im, Halligan!"

"Technically, shrimp are crustaceans, sir."

"Then I don't like crustaceans," Cap told him.

Johnny grinned, "So... your name is Halligan, eh? Like the tool? Bet you _get into_ a lot!" He added an elbow to Roy's ribs for effect.

"The tool?" Halligan asked, a bit bewildered.

John's smile faded. "Oh, uh, yeah, well, okay, maybe I should explain. A Halligan, well, that's something a fireman uses to break into, okay, we're not breaking into places, uh, you know it jams into..." Gage was embarrassed that Halligan didn't immediately "get" his attempt at fireman humor.

"It gets us in to places during a fire that might be blocked in some way. Like a locked door or maybe bars on a window, that type of thing," Roy saved, trying to help out his sputtering partner.

John whooshed out a breath, "Yyyeah...so, anyway...uh, I think I'm gonna get in the pool. Anybody else comin' in?"

Mike and Roy snatched more tortilla chips and shook their heads. Marco leaned back and popped the top from another beer bottle and passed it to Cap before taking for for himself. "Nope, not now."

"Chet? Halligan?"

"Yeah, sure, I'll go in," Chet said.

"I think I will too," Halligan told them, "but please, everyone just call me Hal."

Gage stood up and removed his t-shirt and sandals and walked over to the edge, where the pool reached ten feet deep. He bounced on his toes and gazed down into the water as if preparing for an Olympic dive. On the way to the diving board, Hal paused to strip off his t-shirt and use it to wipe the beads of sweat from his face before tossing it to one of the unoccupied chairs. For a man who didn't seem to get out much or wear anything but a suit and tie, he was tanned and looked as natural by the side of a pool as he did answering the front door.

Chet suddenly spewed his tortilla chip into his lap and burst out laughing. "What was I saying about chicken legs? Look at Johnny next to Hal! Gage has a chicken body!"

A/N- Yes, I'm hiding more firefighting tools and terms in this chapter. A cross-lay (Hal's chain) is a way of loading the hoses on a firetruck so they lay across it from side-to-side, rather than front-to-back. A Higbee cut (the Chef) is a modification on a "male" hose coupling to prevent cross-threading. That's when the threads on the male coupling aren't lined up right with the grooves in the "female" coupling and the parts don't join correctly and the threads get stripped. (Thanks, K!)


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**

John looked up at Chet's laughing outburst, and snarled at him. Then he glanced over at the figure of Hal, standing behind him, just off to the left. Okay, so the guy had strong legs, so what? Could he tread water for a half-hour like Johnny could? Chet sure couldn't, so he'd be better off stuffing a sock in his big mouth, John thought, only slightly bitterly.

"Hmph. Chicken body. Chet's had enough beer to _marinate_ a chicken body!" John muttered, barely under his breath. As if on cue, an icy cold blast of water suddenly sprayed on John's back and snapped him out of his preoccupation. "Yaaaaagh!" he shrieked, spinning around, "that's cold! What the...?"

Hal spun around as well to see where the water was coming from and quickly ran over to the boxwood hedge that lined two sides of the patio. "Quint! Quint! Hey, stop!"

Just as quickly as the water appeared, it was shut off and disappeared. A man around the age of thirty, wearing a grey short-sleeve shirt and blue uniform pants came through a white, wrought-iron archway, wiping his wet hands on his thighs.

"Hal? What's going on? What's wrong?"

"Quint, Mr. Kelly has guests today, you'll have to wait to water the grounds until later. Didn't anyone tell you?"

"No, nobody told me, Hal." He turned to Johnny, "I'm very sorry, sir. I was unaware there were guests today. The hose sort of malfunctioned; I apologize."

"Oh...hey, that's no big deal," John chuckled, "it's not like I wasn't going to get wet anyway." He approached the gardener and offered a hand. "John Gage," he said. "I'm an LA County fireman-paramedic. Nice to meet you."

"Quint. Quint Pulaski. I'm the grounds-keeper here. Nice to meet you, too."

John stood there with a frozen smile on his face, still absently shaking the man's hand. _"Quint? Pulaski?" _he wondered._ "You gotta be kidding me!"_

Quint looked quizzically at Johnny and tugged a little to get Gage to release his hand.

"Uh...John? Something wrong?"

"Hm? Oh, uh, no...no..." John sputtered, finally letting go. "It's just...your name...it's, well, uh, never mind. It just reminds me of something, I'm sorry."

"Yeah, okay, um, anyway, I apologize again for the water. I just dug up a small avocado tree back here that died. Took me a while to chop through all those roots, but I got it out of there. I was just getting ready to water the replacement tree I planted and the hose kind of got away from me."

"It's okay, really," John told him. "You're quite a grounds-keeper, though, you know that? This place is amazing!"

Pulaski smiled with pride. "Thanks, it's a lot of work, but I enjoy it. I actually have five different jobs here at the Kelly estate. I'm the gardener, the maintenance man, the mechanic, the landscaper and sometimes I'm even the pool-guy."

"Wow, pretty useful, I'd say," Chet said, walking up and joining the conversation. "Wanna join the party, Quint? I gave Hal the day off, why don't you grab a beer and enjoy the day, too?"

Quint looked over at Hal and now understood why the butler was not in his usual work attire. "Well. You know, I might just do that. Thank you, sir."

"Uh-uh," Chet replied, "No 'sir', just Chet. Save the 'sir' for my uncle. See you in a few."

Quint nodded and smiled, and went to return all the tools to the grounds-building before getting changed. John looked over at Chet.

"You know...that was awright, Chet. I bet those guys haven't had a day off in a while."

"Yeah, well, they work hard, too." Chet looked down at his feet for a moment. "Anyway, I need another beer. You guys want one?"

"No thanks, Chet, not yet. I'm going in the pool first," Hal told them, "maybe later." Now that the water problem had been satisfactorily dealt with, he ambled off to the diving board once more.

"Nah, I'm good too," Johnny replied. "Besides, I haven't been in the pool yet, either." He cast a curious look at Chet as he turned away. "Say, uh, Chet, have you been using that tanning lotion all day?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I think you're getting a little pink there, on the back. Maybe you better find something else to use or cover up for a while," John suggested.

"Are you kidding? I won't get a chance to spend this much time in the sun relaxing for who knows how long! I need to get my tan today, Gage, and that stuff is turbo-charged! I'll just put a little more on." Chet stalked back to the cabana where the others sat, insulted that John would even suggest covering up on such a perfect day.

"Yeah, you go put more on...moron," Johnny grumbled to himself, "you'll see I wasn't kidding when you're fire-engine red tomorrow!"

Hal, meanwhile, stood at the end of the diving board, stretching out. He shook his arms loose and touched his toes.

Johnny scoffed and mumbled, "Oh, just dive already, we don't need a show..."

Hal then took a few practice bounces, squatting down then standing to see how flexible the board was. He took in a deep breath and bounced once, then twice, and finally made a truly impressive, almost splash-less entrance into the glittering water. He swam underwater to the shallow end, came up for just a second to take a breath, then flipped back and swam back effortlessly to the deep end. Underwater, he looked like a dolphin- smooth and fast.

Johnny had to admit, it was impressive. When he emerged from the water, Hal swam over to the ladder that hung on the side and climbed out. He stood there for a moment and shook the water from his long-ish hair, and tiny rivulets ran down his face. Johnny tossed Hal a towel.

"Nice dive, Hal. You do a lot of it?"

"Nah, not anymore," Hal responded. "My parents had a pool and I learned how to dive a long time ago, but I don't get the chance to much anymore. You dive?"

"Me?" Johnny asked, with a hand splayed across his chest for emphasis, "Sure! I dive all the time; part of my job is knowing how to do water rescues!"

"Cool," nodded Hal as he headed toward the others, "think I'll go grab a beer."

Less than thrilled that Hal didn't seem as interested in _his_ story as John had been in _Hal's_, Gage approached the diving board, ready for his turn. He stood at the edge of the board, trying to recall how Hal had done it. He bounced a few times, stretched his arms and legs, did a few squats and shook his arms. Nobody was watching...except Chet. Johnny bounced once...twice...then sprang up like a frog and right as his feet left the board he heard Chet shout.

"Go get 'em, chicken legs!"


	5. Chapter 5

The Tool Party – Chapter Five

Chet's shout was just enough of a distraction to Johnny and Gage whipped his head around toward the others, his legs and arms flailing in the air like a bird wounded in mid-flight. His perfect dive now looked ridiculous and he landed in the water with a resounding splash that nearly reached Hal, who hadn't quite made it to the chairs yet.

John came up for air, gasping and sputtering, and about as mad at Chet as he'd ever been. He leaned his folded arms on the side of the pool and shook his head, attempting to clear the water from his ears. Roy got up and strolled over and stuffed another tortilla chip in his mouth and wiped his hands on his thighs before he knelt down.

"You okay?" he asked.

John sniffed and frowned, glaring in Chet's direction. "Yeah, I'm okay." With the help of Roy's outstretched hand, John lifted himself out of the pool and stood up. He wiped his face on the towel Roy had thoughtfully provided, then wrapped it around his waist. "I don't have chicken legs, Roy!" he muttered, angrily.

"Yeah...no chicken legs, I know," Roy mumbled back, hoping this wasn't going to be the start of a Kelly vs. Gage sparring match.

Chet was gasping and sputtering himself, but with laughter rather than water. "Gage!" he panted, "that was fantastic! You should have seen yourself!"

Marco reached over and punched Chet lightly on the shoulder, "Geez, Chet, can it already. Gage is gonna make you eat that towel you're wearing."

John merely continued his glare, twisting his mouth in as-yet-unspoken irritation and watched as Chet happily snatched another chip and took a swig of beer.

Before anything could be said, Quint Pulaski ambled in through the arbor gate, pushing a large wheelbarrow full of ice and a case's worth of Stroh's beer. "Hello, gents," he greeted, "thought this would be easier than making Halligan here keep running back to the house for more. I've saved this for a, uh, special occasion shall we say? I think this qualifies."

"Pulaski, that's brilliant. I am officially off the clock, I might add," Hal told the gardener. "I believe _you_ can wheel that over here."

Johnny snagged a bottle of beer from the wheelbarrow as it went by and plopped himself down on one of the lounges. He twisted off the top, took a long pull and thought about saying something more to Chet about his 'chicken-legs' remark. He shot another sideways glance in Kelly's direction and noticed Chet grimace slightly as he sat up from the back of the lounge.

"_Uh-huh, bet that sunburn is startin' to bug him a bit," _Gage thought ruefully._ "Good. Serves him right."_

Chet shifted his shoulders to and fro, then made a face when his skin felt hot, tight and almost...papery. He shook his curly hair and leaned forward to grab a fresh, cold Stroh's for himself. He paused for a moment, trying to decide how he could nonchalantly hold the cold brew to his hot cheeks. "I, uh, gotta take a leak," he muttered and gingerly unstuck himself from the chair. He sucked in a breath and faked a smile when the others looked over at him.

"Chet?" Cap asked, "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, Cap," Chet promised, "I'm good, just gotta, uh, well, I'll be right back." He jerked a thumb towards the house, "Ya' know..."

The others nodded knowingly and went back to their beer and conversations. Chet, meanwhile, noticed his arms felt stiff and the continued licking he gave his lips rendered no relief to the heat and dryness he felt. He grabbed the bottle of suntan lotion and happened to glance over toward Gage and noticed the paramedic smirking behind his beer bottle. Chet walked past John's chair and shot him a look, silently daring him to say something. Johnny merely shrugged his shoulders and raised an eyebrow as if he had no idea what Chet could be thinking.

Without warning, Mike jumped up, belched loudly and tossed his beer bottle behind him on the chair. Then he dropped the towel from around his waist and yelled, "Time for a dip!" and careened across the patio toward the pool. "Cannon-baaaall!"

Marco, Roy, Johnny and Cap sat there, open-mouthed in surprise as their Engineer, who up until that point hadn't said a whole lot, tucked his knees up under himself in mid-air and made a spectacular splash into the deep end of the swimming pool.

"Sheesh, Cap," Marco muttered, "get a coupla' beers in that guy and he destroys every preconceived notion you've ever had about him." He shook his head and took another swig.

Cap blew out a breath and turned toward the guest sitting to his right. "So, ah, Quint," he began, hoping to get that last image of Stoker out of his head, "Halligan said you're the gardener and more here, eh? How do you like that sort of thing?"

"Oh, I love it, Captain," Quint answered. " Nothing like all this acreage to keep a guy busy, that's for sure. I like being handy to have around; job security you know." He smiled and pried himself from his chair. "In fact, if you'll excuse me for just a minute, I think I'll go check on those sprinkler controls. They should have gone off by now. Every three hours for twenty minutes on the dot and they're about ten minutes behind, I believe."

Halligan stood up as well. "I think I'll check if Higbee's returned. I'm getting hungry; maybe he's bought something to throw on the grill." Holding his beer between thumb and forefinger, he lifted it to his lips and took one last, long gulp, emptying it with a satisfying slurp. He took the bottle with him and picked up the other empties to dispose of in the house. The remaining four returned to their stunned observation of Mike who was now climbing out and heading toward the diving board.

"Whoo! That was great!" Mike shouted. "Watch this!" He bounced on the edge of the board and made another dive, quite a bit more graceful than his last attempt.

Chet, meanwhile, had locked himself upstairs in one of the spacious guest bathrooms and tried unsuccessfully to get a good look at his back. He held a small hand mirror he found in the drawer and twisted around in front of the larger mirror above the sink, contorting himself in ways he'd never done before. He could feel the heat emanating from his back and face. He knew he was sunburned; he couldn't miss the angry pink shade his arms had taken on- they matched his rosy cheeks which made him look perpetually embarrassed.

"Man," he grumbled, "I am burnt to a crisp. Darn that Gage, he's never going to let me live this down." He glared at the bottle of suntan lotion in his hand. "Dumb stuff. 'Turbo-charged', huh? Phooey."

The plastic bottle thunked loudly as he tossed it in the chrome wastebasket. Deciding he wanted to try to lessen the sting of his flushed skin, he rooted around in the cabinets, searching for something to cool the heat. "Huh...what's this stuff? Noxzema?" He read the jar's label. "Removes makeup, soothes burns..." He unscrewed the cap and took a deep sniff. "Yuck! That stinks! Not using this, they'd smell me for miles."

His uncle, though wealthy, successful, and naturally as charming as all the other Kelly men, hadn't yet found a female to share his life, so the selection of remedies was definitely on the disappointing side. "Jeez, a chick would've had a ton of stuff to use," Chet muttered. "Guess, I'll just stick to splashing some cold water on my face."

At first, Chet splashed cold water from the sink faucet, then wetted a wash-cloth and pressed it to his cheeks and lips. The cool water offered such relief, Chet thought perhaps he'd take a quick shower- that way he'd cool off his arms and back as well. He started the shower and turned away, bending over to unstrap his sandals. "Hm, that feels nice too," he thought when his hot feet touched the cold white tile floor.

Unbeknownst to Chet, the shower head had been turned in such a way that it was spraying outside the large tub and on the floor behind him. Turning around, his bare feet stepped in a puddle and the spray hit him in the face. "Whoop!" he yelled as his feet slipped and he grabbed the towel bar to keep from falling. The towel bar, however, had other ideas and pulled away from the wall. Chet went down like a sack of wet cement, whacking his already tender face on the side of the tub on the way.


End file.
